A/N: Much thanks to Miss Kissi who has wonderfully offered to be my beta-
reader! This next chapter is going to be a little. interesting. It
involves that explicit activity that we so often associate with Rocky
Horror, but don't worry it's not graphic or anything. Just mentioned.
This is my first shot at writing romance of any kind, so please be nice. I
know I'm not great at it. It had to happen some time though, and I figured
better get it over with now. So R the next chapter is most certainly
not going to be this intimate. *blushes* This chapter is so unlike
anything I've ever written... I'm getting embarrassed just thinking about
it. Goodness, I guess I'm purer than I thought. *blushes again* I'm sorry
about that. Oh, I'm just gonna shut up and let you read.
~*~*~*~
Stimulating party scene. Music, food, people. Such a change. Me talking people up, flirting, enjoying myself. I'm not the only one enjoying myself. All of the guests are enjoying themselves, as well as many of them who are enjoying me. Bikers, lots of bikers, flirt, flirt, flirt, flirt, flirt. Dance, dance, dance, dance, dance. Frank likes my dancing. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. I tap-dance my way through the party, attracting stares from everyone. Especially Frank. He seems to really like my dancing. I flirt with him a bit, but distanced, just a sweet little air- kiss across the room, a little toss of the head, alluring mysterious and dare I say sexy?
All of the guests look at me, wondering who I am, wondering how I got here, how I came to be. I simply smile at them as I tap on by, giving my name but not much more. I am an enigma to them, a girl in an old black-and-white detective movie, but very much Technicolor. There's so much more fun in being colorful and bright than being black and white, I can tell you that. It's like a coloring book, empty, waiting for you to fill it in with your own vibrant expressions. I always used to love coloring books when I was a little kid. They're so full of promise. I would keep them for ages after I'd already colored them, not willing to part with the happy world I had filled in for myself.
I blow kisses at some of the guests, wave cutely at some of them, dance around all of them. Oftentimes, I don't dance with anyone, I just dance. It's not that I don't want to dance with them, but sometimes the music just seems to suit a solo more. I'll admit, I love the spotlight. It seems when I dance here, people will watch me. It's a good feeling. It's really, really good. Just dancing, dancing, dancing, I receive attention, compliments, flattery, more than I ever have before. It feels like I have a place for myself.
Eddie, Eddie loves my dancing. I didn't think Eddie would be quite my kind of guy, but oh, he is. He really likes me, and now I really let myself think about it I really like him too. He snaked his arm around my waist during one of the songs and led me over to the refreshments table and right there right there right there in the party he kissed me kissed me kissed me. My very first kiss. I didn't tell him this. I pretended I had kissed many, many guys before him, pretended I was experienced. He tried to stick his tongue in my mouth and I let him. That part wasn't so great. But the kissing, the kissing overall was excellent. I reciprocated the kiss, allowing my lips to effortlessly caress his. After a minute I broke the kiss off. He wasn't so happy about that. I think he would've been fine just sitting there kissing the whole time.
But I wanted to dance. Twirling, turning, tapping, all over the dance floor. The guests watch, the guests admire, I even catch a couple of the guests clapping when I finish a sequence during one of the songs. Except for a couple of kisses with Eddie I don't stop dancing. I flirt with the guests as I dance. I'm not sure why I'm doing it, but I just keep flirting. I act like I couldn't care less about anyone's feelings, or how the way I acted affected anyone. Thoughtless, careless, heartless, mindless. Maybe I've given up on feelings. Thinking too much, emoting too much, not any more. I just smile as I dance. If I know the song I'll sing with it, but most of the songs I've never heard before. I like them. I usually didn't listen to music much at home; all of the "cool" music was too impure for my mother to allow it. But now she's not here to stop me and I love, love, love this music!
By the end of the night I notice that as I've been dancing and flirting I haven't even been paying attention to Frank. In all truth, I kept sneaking glances at him throughout the party, but I manage to make it look like I wasn't paying attention to him at all. It's part of the façade, I suppose. I keep dancing until the records stop spinning and the guests disappear. They sort of just evaporate, fading into thin air until it's just me and Eddie and Frank left. I haven't seen Riff-Raff or Magenta during the whole party. I figure they just sort of clear out when the parties happen; open the doors take the coats and get out of the way. Eddie gives me a kiss goodnight before he leaves, longer and more passionate than before. I walk him to the door with our arms around each others' waists and he promises to come see me soon. He's infatuated. I can tell that. I'm not sure if I'm that far gone on him, but I'm starting to warm up to him, I think. He's really a sweet guy once you get past all the leather'n'motorbike stuff. Really he is. It's a classic case of the misunderstood rebel.
Once Eddie's gone and all the other guests are gone there's just me and Frank left. Determined not to be outdone, he grabs me around the waist and kisses me full-on, not saying anything, just kissing me. My eyes go wide for a moment, but then I shut them and reciprocate the kiss, letting him draw me into an embrace and letting my body press against his. It's beyond describable. It's full-blown passion, passion, passion. He finally releases me and whispers in my ear, "Did you have a good time at the party?"
I twitter a little, and allowing my voice to go as squeaky as it pleases, reply, "Especially at the very end." He seems to like this answer, and he kisses me again, even longer than the first one, and this time I'm not shocked, I respond even better than before. He seems a little surprised by my ardor, but I'm calling on all of the sex appeal I've got in me and it seems to be working.
He kisses me over and over, walking me to a wire-cage style elevator in the middle of the front entry hall. Immediately, I feel stupid for not having noticed before, but he leads me into the elevator, shuts the door, and keeps kissing me as the elevator goes up, up, up, up, up. My insides lurch a little as the elevator comes to a sudden stop in a pink room with tile ceilings and floors and walls and red switches and machines all over the place. "Welcome to the lab," he whispers as he kisses my neck. "Hey, wow, Frankie, you're a scientist?" I show admiration and approval in my voice, letting a little squeal out as he kisses me again. "Only one of the finest," he replies with an odd amount of self-assurance. I've never met anyone with as much confidence as Frank, ever. He's always just so secure with himself. Doesn't need to change to please anyone. I wish I had the same kind of composure. Not able to stand it anymore I suppose, he shoves me into a wall, kissing me kissing me kissing me and so much more. Wow passion lust love kiss kiss kiss more more more more more.
There's so so so much going on. I stare at Frankie's face. He kisses me all down my body, starting at my lips and working his way down. I wail just a little with excitement, never letting my senses fully connect to each other. So much passion, so much energy, so much exhilaration, so much WOW. I let my brain completely lose track and just let my heart and body take over completely, detaching my mind and entering into a state of emotional blackout as the passion overwhelms me.
It's in this state of emotional blackout I manage to find my way back to my bedroom, pulling on pajamas and collapsing into bed with a sigh. The clock on the vanity table says two in the morning. I stare at the ceiling, unable to stop smiling, unable to stop thinking, unable to stop, stop, stop, stop, stop. Did we just.
I think so.
This is beyond anything I would have ever dreamed. Ever. There was some whispering, some flattery, compliments. And then there was. what was it? The magazines always talk about it, and the movies. We talked about it once in school. There was a slideshow. My mom never gave me the talk. From what I learned at school, your parents are supposed to give you the talk. I don't think I ever got the talk. I know my dad never gave me the talk. How could he have? He was never around. Too busy working. "Working". I heard the fights when I was supposed to be sleeping. He was the one doing things he shouldn't have been when he was supposed to be sleeping. Maybe that's why I never got the talk. Sex destroys you. That's what it always seemed like with my parents. They were perfectly fine till my dad decided he wanted more than what he had. Sex. Sleeping around. He left when I was eleven. My mom was never quite the same after that. She was overprotective. She always had been. But it seemed from then on she had to shield me from the evils of the world even more than before. The evils of things like sex. She shielded me to no end. Ironic, her shielding leading me here to the place the shielding completely wears off and becomes totally irrelevant.
So if it always seemed like it could never anything but bad, how come it was just so good? There was something Frankie whispered, "There's no crime in giving yourself over to pleasure." And there isn't. Oh, Mom, if you saw your little girl now. You wouldn't even recognize me. Your very own little Christie, sweet little innocent Christie. There is no such person anymore. Oh, you would never believe it. I'm in a whole other world now. There's no crime in giving yourself over to pleasure. Magazines always say, your first time should be with someone you love. I'm glad to know that they finally said something right in one of those things.
~*~*~*~
Stimulating party scene. Music, food, people. Such a change. Me talking people up, flirting, enjoying myself. I'm not the only one enjoying myself. All of the guests are enjoying themselves, as well as many of them who are enjoying me. Bikers, lots of bikers, flirt, flirt, flirt, flirt, flirt. Dance, dance, dance, dance, dance. Frank likes my dancing. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. I tap-dance my way through the party, attracting stares from everyone. Especially Frank. He seems to really like my dancing. I flirt with him a bit, but distanced, just a sweet little air- kiss across the room, a little toss of the head, alluring mysterious and dare I say sexy?
All of the guests look at me, wondering who I am, wondering how I got here, how I came to be. I simply smile at them as I tap on by, giving my name but not much more. I am an enigma to them, a girl in an old black-and-white detective movie, but very much Technicolor. There's so much more fun in being colorful and bright than being black and white, I can tell you that. It's like a coloring book, empty, waiting for you to fill it in with your own vibrant expressions. I always used to love coloring books when I was a little kid. They're so full of promise. I would keep them for ages after I'd already colored them, not willing to part with the happy world I had filled in for myself.
I blow kisses at some of the guests, wave cutely at some of them, dance around all of them. Oftentimes, I don't dance with anyone, I just dance. It's not that I don't want to dance with them, but sometimes the music just seems to suit a solo more. I'll admit, I love the spotlight. It seems when I dance here, people will watch me. It's a good feeling. It's really, really good. Just dancing, dancing, dancing, I receive attention, compliments, flattery, more than I ever have before. It feels like I have a place for myself.
Eddie, Eddie loves my dancing. I didn't think Eddie would be quite my kind of guy, but oh, he is. He really likes me, and now I really let myself think about it I really like him too. He snaked his arm around my waist during one of the songs and led me over to the refreshments table and right there right there right there in the party he kissed me kissed me kissed me. My very first kiss. I didn't tell him this. I pretended I had kissed many, many guys before him, pretended I was experienced. He tried to stick his tongue in my mouth and I let him. That part wasn't so great. But the kissing, the kissing overall was excellent. I reciprocated the kiss, allowing my lips to effortlessly caress his. After a minute I broke the kiss off. He wasn't so happy about that. I think he would've been fine just sitting there kissing the whole time.
But I wanted to dance. Twirling, turning, tapping, all over the dance floor. The guests watch, the guests admire, I even catch a couple of the guests clapping when I finish a sequence during one of the songs. Except for a couple of kisses with Eddie I don't stop dancing. I flirt with the guests as I dance. I'm not sure why I'm doing it, but I just keep flirting. I act like I couldn't care less about anyone's feelings, or how the way I acted affected anyone. Thoughtless, careless, heartless, mindless. Maybe I've given up on feelings. Thinking too much, emoting too much, not any more. I just smile as I dance. If I know the song I'll sing with it, but most of the songs I've never heard before. I like them. I usually didn't listen to music much at home; all of the "cool" music was too impure for my mother to allow it. But now she's not here to stop me and I love, love, love this music!
By the end of the night I notice that as I've been dancing and flirting I haven't even been paying attention to Frank. In all truth, I kept sneaking glances at him throughout the party, but I manage to make it look like I wasn't paying attention to him at all. It's part of the façade, I suppose. I keep dancing until the records stop spinning and the guests disappear. They sort of just evaporate, fading into thin air until it's just me and Eddie and Frank left. I haven't seen Riff-Raff or Magenta during the whole party. I figure they just sort of clear out when the parties happen; open the doors take the coats and get out of the way. Eddie gives me a kiss goodnight before he leaves, longer and more passionate than before. I walk him to the door with our arms around each others' waists and he promises to come see me soon. He's infatuated. I can tell that. I'm not sure if I'm that far gone on him, but I'm starting to warm up to him, I think. He's really a sweet guy once you get past all the leather'n'motorbike stuff. Really he is. It's a classic case of the misunderstood rebel.
Once Eddie's gone and all the other guests are gone there's just me and Frank left. Determined not to be outdone, he grabs me around the waist and kisses me full-on, not saying anything, just kissing me. My eyes go wide for a moment, but then I shut them and reciprocate the kiss, letting him draw me into an embrace and letting my body press against his. It's beyond describable. It's full-blown passion, passion, passion. He finally releases me and whispers in my ear, "Did you have a good time at the party?"
I twitter a little, and allowing my voice to go as squeaky as it pleases, reply, "Especially at the very end." He seems to like this answer, and he kisses me again, even longer than the first one, and this time I'm not shocked, I respond even better than before. He seems a little surprised by my ardor, but I'm calling on all of the sex appeal I've got in me and it seems to be working.
He kisses me over and over, walking me to a wire-cage style elevator in the middle of the front entry hall. Immediately, I feel stupid for not having noticed before, but he leads me into the elevator, shuts the door, and keeps kissing me as the elevator goes up, up, up, up, up. My insides lurch a little as the elevator comes to a sudden stop in a pink room with tile ceilings and floors and walls and red switches and machines all over the place. "Welcome to the lab," he whispers as he kisses my neck. "Hey, wow, Frankie, you're a scientist?" I show admiration and approval in my voice, letting a little squeal out as he kisses me again. "Only one of the finest," he replies with an odd amount of self-assurance. I've never met anyone with as much confidence as Frank, ever. He's always just so secure with himself. Doesn't need to change to please anyone. I wish I had the same kind of composure. Not able to stand it anymore I suppose, he shoves me into a wall, kissing me kissing me kissing me and so much more. Wow passion lust love kiss kiss kiss more more more more more.
There's so so so much going on. I stare at Frankie's face. He kisses me all down my body, starting at my lips and working his way down. I wail just a little with excitement, never letting my senses fully connect to each other. So much passion, so much energy, so much exhilaration, so much WOW. I let my brain completely lose track and just let my heart and body take over completely, detaching my mind and entering into a state of emotional blackout as the passion overwhelms me.
It's in this state of emotional blackout I manage to find my way back to my bedroom, pulling on pajamas and collapsing into bed with a sigh. The clock on the vanity table says two in the morning. I stare at the ceiling, unable to stop smiling, unable to stop thinking, unable to stop, stop, stop, stop, stop. Did we just.
I think so.
This is beyond anything I would have ever dreamed. Ever. There was some whispering, some flattery, compliments. And then there was. what was it? The magazines always talk about it, and the movies. We talked about it once in school. There was a slideshow. My mom never gave me the talk. From what I learned at school, your parents are supposed to give you the talk. I don't think I ever got the talk. I know my dad never gave me the talk. How could he have? He was never around. Too busy working. "Working". I heard the fights when I was supposed to be sleeping. He was the one doing things he shouldn't have been when he was supposed to be sleeping. Maybe that's why I never got the talk. Sex destroys you. That's what it always seemed like with my parents. They were perfectly fine till my dad decided he wanted more than what he had. Sex. Sleeping around. He left when I was eleven. My mom was never quite the same after that. She was overprotective. She always had been. But it seemed from then on she had to shield me from the evils of the world even more than before. The evils of things like sex. She shielded me to no end. Ironic, her shielding leading me here to the place the shielding completely wears off and becomes totally irrelevant.
So if it always seemed like it could never anything but bad, how come it was just so good? There was something Frankie whispered, "There's no crime in giving yourself over to pleasure." And there isn't. Oh, Mom, if you saw your little girl now. You wouldn't even recognize me. Your very own little Christie, sweet little innocent Christie. There is no such person anymore. Oh, you would never believe it. I'm in a whole other world now. There's no crime in giving yourself over to pleasure. Magazines always say, your first time should be with someone you love. I'm glad to know that they finally said something right in one of those things.